


Aspiration

by Squaresas



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29536722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squaresas/pseuds/Squaresas
Summary: A day of Miller's life in Alaska.
Relationships: a bit of solimiller, and ocelhira i guess
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Aspiration

Wild blizzard roared outside, slamming snow onto weary window frames. One had to wonder how the hell those still stayed up, Miller was pretty skeptical about David’s advice on those but it seemed like they actually did their job. Which was, well, keeping the house warm and he didn’t ask for more.

It was rather noisy thanks to the restless weather, with the wind whistling through small gaps and huskies howling from time to time, but he didn’t really care. And not only because he was in the comfortable basement, already covered in sweat from at least an hour of training on squat rack. Maybe buying all this exercise equipment wasn’t such a bad idea. He had to spend money somewhere, not like there was anything to look forward to.

Six years later hollow numbness in the chest should have gone away at least partially, and maybe it did but it was so hard to tell after all the shit he went through. Every new day resembled the previous one, merging into the blurry mess that somehow still didn’t cause him to blow his brains out by now. 

Miller haven’t been this ecstatic about someone’s death… probably, never before in his lifetime. Back there, while he was listening to the briefing on Zanzibar Land, he had this nagging worry that it will be the same as when he saw Skullface’s body wiggle around. That nothing will change. That the vortex inside will just keep sucking every bit of positive emotions he could ever have gotten and spew nothing but poison back out. 

One time, when Snake overdid with the booze at the secluded bar in Costa-Rica – which Miller had nothing to do with and absolutely did not throw his own drinks over the shoulder whenever he was in Snake’s blind spot – he had to listen to a lot of drunk, sad rambling, too unusual for the man. Too emotional. 

Even in this state Snake was discreet enough to not out Zero, merely calling him ‘that one bastard’ who used his trust and ‘committed an atrocity’. Not that it helped, considering who he was blabbing to.

Miller wondered sometimes how David would react if he heard the way he was being regarded from the moment he was born. Would he even care? It might be hard to make Big Boss look even worse in kid’s eyes. Might stain Miller himself, however. He still couldn’t find courage to reveal that he knew all along.

Again.

That wasn’t anything special to hear, anyway. What made him flinch with guilt were the words Snake suddenly uttered staring somewhere past Miller, voice void of all emotions the memories evoked before.

‘It feels like I was the one who died that day. Nothing matters since then,’ looking over to him, Snake chuckled briefly. ‘Well, maybe some things do.’

Miller brushed it off at the time, everyone gets depressed once in a while, and Snake had plenty of reasons to be like that. But that blank look he had at the moment kept returning after fiasco with Paz. By the time they met in the 90’s it became permanent, no trace of the man he used to know left. He himself felt about the same, urged to move forward only for revenge, like a programmed machine. 

A machine can’t be happy.

So naturally Miller didn’t expect to feel so good as he heard frantic, agonized screams through David’s codec. When they slowly trailed off into rasping wheezing, barely audible until it wasn’t at all, it was almost like his world returned its colors for a moment. He couldn’t hide that when David returned, pale, voice monotone as he gave summary of everything that happened. When everyone but them left the room, he thought about asking kid about the details, but got interrupted by David’s violent fit of cough.

Looking back, he wanted to believe that tears in corners of impossibly blue eyes were just from that.

The least Miller could do was to be accommodating and offer cup of water, walking out to the room next door for just a couple of minutes.

David was gone by the time he got back, vanished into thin air along with one of the base’s bikes. He didn’t really care back then.

Miller rode that high for months, building plans for the new life with his family, free of the imposing figure looming over his future. Although first weeks have been pretty tense. Big Boss might have been dead, but unknown number of his absurdly loyal followers was still roaming in the shadows and it would be strange for them not to be moved by the same revenge he had burning for years. 

However, everything was quiet on the radar. Eerily so. Miller kept checking on Campbell and other members of the operation, even going as far as to track down David and have rather awkward talk with him, mood dampening every second he spent with kid, barely sober for mumbled answers. Nobody including him seen anything, had encounters with suspicious people, nothing. He didn’t believe for a second that FOXHOUD elite gave up and went about their day, but even then it’s not like Miller could do anything about it. 

So he got a white picked-fence house and hoped to have an average happy life. Except it never came. Euphoria gradually got replaced by dread of being alone and having nobody around who even knew his true history and identity. Nobody who wouldn’t want to kill him for that exact history, at least. His life felt and was fake, there was no real purpose to it anymore now that his long-last dream came true. Where would he go, government again? The same one that fucked them over numerous times? Could just become a local hunter and be content with the things he had of course, he had to have been happy to get out of all this with his life and newfound family. Not everyone were half as lucky. But he just couldn’t. 

Miller really wished she’d get angry at him the day he couldn’t take it anymore. Throw a couple of plates, punch him, maybe. Say everything she kept inside all this time out of politeness, or pity for his state, he had no idea which that was. Anyone would get sick of their ‘better half’ leaving all the time for random intervals of time, going back without looking at her or giving any answers. She stopped asking after a while.

But she was as calm as ever, even helping out to gather his miniscule amount of wardrobe and useless trinkets. No insult would make him feel worse than that. 

She and Cathy walked him all the way to the car, little girl smiling innocently. Neither of them believed that he’ll be gone for good. Holding both of them in a tight embrace, he could barely hear ‘We’ll see you in a bit, Ben’, mind clouded by possible prospects of his future. The shortest one seemed appealing. 

But he went this far, might as well keep moving, wherever that might lead.

The only place he could think of was Alaska.

Seeing David again was slightly less awkward, younger man still obviously leading a life of heavy drinker, but at least he kept himself busy. Surprisingly enthusiastic, he introduced his former master to the newly gotten huskies. Embarrassingly, Miller almost shrieked in distress when seemingly endless sea of animals ran into him, almost throwing uncomfortable leg prosthetic off balance. 

Barely staying upright among way too friendly dogs, he huffed, annoyed. The only objective in his mind was to get out of this furry, incredibly noisy pile and he didn’t hear quiet snickering right away. David was hiding his face behind both hands, unable to resist laughing at the scene of his serious, scary mentor being overpowered by dog hugs. 

All Miller was able to do is shake his head with a smile. For once, it wasn’t forced. 

He never stopped feeling miserable around the kid, but it wasn’t as bad. They visited each other frequently, David always talking about his dogs (‘Wolfdogs would be more accurate, Master’) and all the intricate details of their daily treatment, oh, and dog races. God, so many dog races. It seemed like David pretty much abandoned the idea of ever going back in the field and was content with the life as it was. 

Miller would be happy for him if not for the constant reminder of kid’s mental health, dark bottles and stained glasses, not always cleaned up. David always offered him a drink, and who was he to refuse, really. Especially when it was to celebrate David’s victory in a race, he was genuinely glad for the kid, after all.

Eventually sad reality of him lacking a couple of limbs to throw booze back like that caught up when he almost hit on David, forgetting that their secret romance was done for. He laughed it off, sober enough to not push any further, but that look didn’t escape his notice.   
He didn’t want David’s hurried explanation that it’s nothing personal, he is just not ready for that yet with any person, not just Miller, but he got it anyway. 

The next day David greeted him with new huskies – he could tell by now that he never saw these ones in the house - wide, a bit mischievous smile making Miller think that he’s about to get mauled by giant beasts. Instead they all rode back to his home, bag with all the basic supplies for dogs on car’s backseat along with happy furballs. 

‘I have a guess that you don’t want to talk about it, but we’re both pretty lonely. My life got significantly better with them, so...’

‘I am not going to let fifty huskies into my home, David.’

‘Who says fifty? Three is enough.’

‘All the same to me, really…’

‘Come on, you’ll know soon how nice it is to have someone with you at home’, David smirked, flicking gun fingers in uncomfortably familiar gesture, ‘Great for protection, too. Ain’t nobody robbing my place.’

As if he didn’t set up cameras and alerting system out of paranoia. But it would be rude not to thank the kid.

When he left, Miller carefully sat down and took one of dogs’ faces in his hands, careful not to tangle prosthetic fingers in the mane. The animal was happily pawing at his legs and trying to lick everything it saw, oblivious to Miller’s frown. 

He remembered the day DD got killed on the mission. How both Venom and Ocelot avoided everyone for weeks, including each other, the only sign of them being there at all is all the work and new missions that kept being done. 

Maybe it wasn’t all that bad. He could be getting a second chance right now, not in the way he ever expected – with a clone of his ex-lover as the only friend, plus the dogs and white nothingness for miles, but it was something. There still was plenty of time to stop being a self-loathing hermit, get David out of the slump while he’s at it. Those were pretty obtainable goals, and for someone like him it should have been a piece of cake. Might get some progress by the end of this year if he starts planning everything now, getting rid of all the alcohol in David’s house is a good first step.

He exhaled heavily, leg weak as he got up, grabbing the water bottle. Today he seemed to feel particularly pathetic, not able to go for another hour. He wanted to blame the weather. Or maybe all the thinking was wearing him out. 

Chuckling, he coughed, taking another gulp of warm liquid. It didn’t seem to help at all, he really should have gotten a cold bottle beforehand. 

Still unable to resist coughing thanks to the annoying scratchy feeling in his throat, Miller hobbled up the stairs, making a beeline for the refrigerator. He grunted, suddenly dizzy, metal hand scratching small plastic door involuntarily. The eyesight seemed to blur even worse than it usually was. He never thought that he’d be this much out of shape. It’s not like he had to push himself to do any exercised anymore, maybe it would be a better idea to lay down, cuddle with the dogs. Usually allowing them to the bed was forbidden, but…

Standing upright, he gulped down half the bottle, slapping the refrigerator closed with a loud ‘bang’. This hand was probably going to cost him new furniture someday. 

Squinting in the window, he noticed dark form in the snow. Well, he found one, just need to go out and catch other pets, their tendency to run like crazy around his house still seemed inconvenient.

The entrance door didn’t budge. 

Right, the keys. Miller wondered what the hell was wrong with him today, did dementia finally got to him by his fifties? They were somewhere in the back, at least he was able to remember that. In that coat on the cheap wardrobe, whenever keys or his phone were put in any other place but his clothes he spent hours looking for them. It was really easy to infuriate him back in the day by snatching anything small like a pen and watch how he stumbles around until Miller eventually figured out that usually it was done by the same person. 

He got a sense of déjà vu when after a bit of fumbling in the pockets he found nothing. Probably fell out when the coat was hanged on the wardrobe handle, although he couldn’t have missed the sound of that…

Miller stared blankly at wet spots under his feet. Small snow lumps were rapidly melting, going all the way to the entrance. 

He managed to go as far as grabbing a hold of Glock tucked behind the wardrobe before violent coughing seized the throat, weapon almost falling out of slacked grip. 

Muffled bang of the entrance door got him out of the daze, urging to move somewhere, just standing still was always a certain death in his experience. 

Unless this haze and weight in the lungs was a result of something like a gas and now he was wasting oxygen. 

He didn’t know if it was his guess was the reason for labored breathing, or sound of approaching heavy steps, punctuated by loud clangs and rustle of fabric. Show off. He knew he already won.

No. Miller couldn’t die like this, not because of this bastard.

There wasn’t a lot of space between unlit hallway and the basement, from there it’s just getting to the stash with weapons. Even if he doesn’t have a chance in getting out alive, then so will his murderer.

He pretty much ran into the tall figure, dark stare obscured slightly by the gas mask lenses meeting his eyes for a second as Miller weakly pushed him off. Jumping back, barely keeping the balance, he pointed way too heavy gun at the man.

It clicked. Empty.

Doing his best not to panic he threw it in the blank face and raced to the stairs. There was so many chances for Ocelot to shoot him by now. The last thing he wanted was to have his death be dragged out - seeing that in nightmares was bad enough - yet it seemed like that’s what he was getting. Miller had a guess that someday he will end up on a receiving end of torturer’s wrath, but seeing your demise coming a mile away isn’t something that helps to get in high spirits. Especially with the body slumping more and more, rasped hacks shuddering through it.

Miller didn’t hear how the steps behind him resumed until reaching the stairs, cursing his inability to move just a bit faster…

Hard kick on his back sent Miller flying face down, metal arm’s sharp corners grazing the face. Teeth gritting, the only sound that wasn’t subdued in his head, he crawled to the desired hidden shelf on the wall. So goddamn far away. 

Scuffed, ridiculous cowboy boots strode to stand before him, one of them moving to lightly tap on his forehead.

‘End of the line, Kazuhira.’

Shaking wet sole off his hair, Miller looked up, hopeless, following with his eyes as Ocelot sat down on the hunches. 

‘You didn’t think that I won’t come for you eventually, right?’

‘Fuck you.’

‘Might be smart not to talk right now if that’s all you have to say.’

Ocelot’s voice became even rougher with years, all the cigar smoking probably wasn’t helping with this. Unless that was the aim, then he succeeded in transformation to one of those cowboy heroes he was infatuated with. Miller would congratulate him if he wasn’t this angry.

It was ominously flat. He had more emotions in it even when talking to interrogation victims.

‘Why now?’, Miller spat, immediately wheezing in pain as more coughs came.

‘Didn’t have any useful reason for it before.’

‘What, not even because I rallied to kill him?’

‘That would just be petty revenge. Although to be fair, I had no reason to assassinate you for my plan’, inclining his head in that feline manner he had, Ocelot narrowed his eyes, ‘I guess I’m a bit of a hypocrite, huh?’

‘Plan? Why didn’t you shoot yourself already, you psycho? Not a lot to live for without precious John, is there?’ 

Laughing hurt, but he’d rather die with that.

‘You’re one to talk. Maybe I should send David a card from your name, he’ll love the real reason you hang out with him.’

‘Shut up.’

‘Always whoring yourself out to anyone close to him, ‘, ignoring feeble swat of metal hand at his boots, Ocelot leaned forward.

Fingers in cold, smooth leather were suddenly gripping his chin. Miller eyes widened as his face was forced to look up, constricted pupils staring at him.

‘Not that I am not grateful for making those years a slightly more bearable. I almost thought that you were the one who can understand me, but’, gloved hand slipped away abruptly and Miller hissed as his nose hit the floor, barely lifting himself on the elbows again, ‘my gratitude can only extend so far, and he’s not around to stop me anymore.’

He wasn’t even able to stay up anymore, rasping, face almost flat on the floor. Everything in the mind was beginning to crumble, sting of fear hitting him.

‘David…’

‘Hm? Oh, have no worry, he won’t be killed. I’ll just make his life living hell.’

Miller needed a good several seconds to get hoarse breaths in and out, desperate tears burning on the corners of his eyes. This couldn’t have been the end, no.

‘Revenge won’t bring him back, you know.’

Hearing a chuckle surprised him. Somehow it was even more alarming than monotonous, soulless speech from before.

‘We’ll see about that.’

‘Right, almost forgot you were insane…’

Ocelot’s coat shuffled around as he, judging by the sounds, kneeled lower to him. Mumbling, Miller felt caress of leather on his cheek. He’d laugh in hysterics if not for almost complete lack of air.

‘Guess I’ll make sure to tell him how hard you are trying…’

‘Hm. Good luck with that. There actually is another side, believe it or not.’

‘I don’t, but it’s nice of you to try.’

‘Why would I lie? You won’t see heaven, not with your past deeds.’

‘Great. Might meet you later then and flip off for eternity.’

He didn’t know for how long he laid there, every inhale a coarse scrape on the throat. Almost as loud as scratch of gloved hand on his stubble, red color too bright against the gray blurry room. Miller almost wanted to stay like this, however twisted the situation was. Anything but realizing his defeat. 

Dying alone.

Dark spots swirled in his vision.

‘Well, this was… therapeutic, actually, but I don’t have all day. Shame. I think I just… forgot how I enjoyed you company, annoying as it was.’

‘Yeah, I’d rather stick around too…’

‘Oh, you will.’

Miller blinked as long red fingers carefully removed his sunglasses, low laugh grating his ears.

‘What…’

‘Goodbye, Kaz. It’s been horrible.’

Sound of spurs eventually dissipated, leaving him in the dark, until scorching pain went away, along with everything else.

**Author's Note:**

> aspiration – definitions:  
> 1\. a hope or ambition of achieving something.  
> 2\. the action or process of drawing breath.


End file.
